Touched by Death
by Madrigal-in-training
Summary: There were some secrets that never passed the Golden Trio's lips. HP/HG/RW Hints of a threesome


Ron wondered what the rest of the world saw as they looked at him. It was probably a pretty picture: the heroic Gryffindor, who had helped his best friend destroy the Dark Lord, joins the Aurors to keep the Wizarding World safe, and becomes a family man with the smartest witch of his generation. None of those facts were necessarily lies, but they never revealed the full scope of the truth either.

In all honestly, Ron felt that the kaleidoscope that was his life couldn't even offer a full truth anymore.

He knew that he certainly had problems with the truth, and after a lifetime of half-lies, misdirections, and blatant falsehoods, who could blame him? He felt a little like Albus Dumbledore, finally knowing just how beautiful and terrible the truth was now that he could no longer use it.

He didn't have any other choice. His family's life would be on the line otherwise.

To pacify the Wizarding World, and to pacify Ginny, they had allowed a few truths to slip through. Minor things. Harry was a Parselmouth. The Dark Lord made Horcruxes. Snape had been innocent all along.

He didn't think that it was enough for his sister. Ron and Ginny had always been close- in a way that the two youngest of a family of seven had to be- and that let him see just how dissatisfied she was with her partial access. But while Ginny was family, and while he loved her- and he knew that Hermione and Harry loved her too- she still wasn't one of them. She wasn't a part of the close-knit group that had become the Golden Trio. She wasn't privy to the little details that could shatter a lifetime's perspective.

Like the fact that James raised his first spirit when he was only four years old.

Hermione and Harry had both been at work during the time. Ron was supposed to be there too, but had come down with a head cold and took a day off. He had Flooed over to Grimmauld Place- a home away from home because it was Harry's home and therefore always open to Hermione and him- with little Rose in tow.

Ginny had been home at that time too, since the Harpies didn't have practice on Wednesdays. She had greeted her brother with an exasperated smile as James- face still covered in the remnants of breakfast- eagerly ran over to his godfather. Ron had laughed and picked up the messy haired child, careful to keep James' inquisitive hands away from his sleepy one-year-old cousin.

James was undoubtedly Harry's son. Ron knew how deeply the Potter traits held- Harry only had his mother's eyes after all- but it was still a reminder just by looking at James' face. A picture perfect replica of his father's face under hair that was a dark auburn, far too dark to come from anyone but his paternal grandmother, Lily Evans. Had Ron not known that Ginny had carried him for nine months, he would have doubted that the child had any relation to the Weasley clan. Harry had his mother's eyes, but James didn't even have that.

As Ron began to wipe away the dried trails of syrup on the boy's face, his godson eagerly chattered on about his day. Rose was put down next to her cousin, the solemn Albus Severus, who had an even more striking resemblance to his father.

"I'm surprised that you're not at work today," Ginny remarked, beginning to clean the countertop.

James gestured to be put down, and Ron followed the expressive order, allowing his godson to run off to the other side of the kitchen where a small mountain's worth of blocks stood.

Ginny followed his gaze. "Harry spoils him a little," she remarked, her voice fond.

Ron nodded, "Well, James is his first child, and Harry can afford it."

"Are you going to do the same for Rose?" Ginny asked, laughing.

Ron shrugged, "I've already bought her a toddler's broomstick and Quidditch set. Hopefully, it will balance out that library's worth of kids books Hermione insisted on getting."

They chattered on for a while longer, before James' laugh caught their attention. Ginny turned around to look at her son, and gave off a sudden shriek. Ron couldn't blame her; the solid-looking specter in front of the boy was covered with enough bloodstains to give the Bloody Baron a pause.

"Oh Merlin, James!" Ginny shouted, causing the babies to begin crying and James' to suddenly turn to his mother in surprise. She made a move as if to run towards him, but then the specter turned towards her, and she shrunk back. Ron didn't have quite that response.

"James, is this your new friend?" the redhaired man said serenely, stepping closer to the boy. The corporeal ghost looked at him warily, but made no move to stop the man as he crouched down next to his godson.

James giggled. "Friend," he repeated loudly, trying out the new word,"Mine!"

"Yours," Ron agreed, "But now its' snack time. Maybe you can play with him later?"

James frowned, and crossed his arms. "No!" he said, stubbornly, "Don't wanna snack. Mine!"

"But after snack time, we could go flying," Ron coaxed on, "You could show me your new broom trick."

"Flying?" James cocked his head to the side, but Ron knew what his answer would be. If there was anything James' liked better than playing with new toys, it was flying.

"Okay!" the boy said brightly, as the spector began to fade, "We fly now?"

A choking sound came from the other side, and Ron looked around to see Ginny. She was rapidly paling and looking a little clammy. But of course she would be, since she had just seen what every Wizarding child knew to be a resurrection. Some of the Darkest magic around, but then necromancy was never meant to be pretty.

"My _son_," Ginny whispered, looking more than a little lost, "Oh Merlin. _Necromancer_."

Ron smiled at her tightly. "I'm sorry," he said, leveling his wand at her, "Obliviate."

James was clearly Harry's son. The Potter looks, the Potter personality, and the Potter magic. Or to be more precise, the _Peverell_ magic.

His four-year-old godson had just performed the pinnacle of the Darkest of all Magicks; he had summoned and commanded a soul. But that wasn't the first secret Ron had told today.

His first secret was that he wasn't sorry about the Obliviate.


End file.
